In Loving Memory
by YourLovelyMajesty
Summary: One shot. Slightly AU-ish; differs from events in the Citadel DLC. Shrios. After Thane's funeral, Kolyat and Commander Shepard sit down to reminiscence about the legacy Thane left behind and have a small heart-to-heart chat.


Kolyat wasn't yet the legal drinking age, but the humans behind the bar didn't need to know that. He had a meeting with Councilor Valern soon and needed something to calm down, and flashing his C-Sec badge earned him a free drink that he planned to make the best of. It wasn't every day he attended a funeral, especially one for his own father. His head was still reeling.

Someone pulled out a chair beside him and he looked up to find Commander Shepard. "This seat taken?"

"Help yourself, She—Commander," Kolyat replied.

"Hey, no rank tonight, okay?" She sat down and frowned at his drink. "Are you sure you should be drinking that?"

"Yeah," he deadpanned. She shrugged and ordered her own drink. Ice water; she must have still been on duty. "How did you know to find me here?"

"I may have pulled some strings with Bailey. I wanted to check in before the Normandy took off, see how you're holding up." She accepted the drink from the bartender and when he disappeared, her voice turned soft. "It was a beautiful service, Kolyat."

He hunched further over his drink. "Yeah, I guess. He would have preferred it on Kahje, but you being there . . . that probably made up for it."

"I was surprised you found a hanar priest that would speak about more than just the Enkindlers. Do all hanar know about drell religion?"

"No. Most won't acknowledge our gods. The Enkindlers are the only gods who exist for them. By the way, I noticed you turned off your translator for a few minutes." The question went unspoken—_was it too much?_

Shepard contemplated her drink. "Thane once said the hanar speech is beautiful. I couldn't see anything except faint flashes, but what little I heard—it sounds crazy, but it was like an iridescent wind."

"Some drell have had optical implants to better communicate with them. I've never seen the point, but my father preferred to understand the true meaning behind everyone's words. He had the surgery."

She smiled. "Thane told me that. He shared a lot of interesting views about the hanar, like their ability to swim. I always assumed, but when you see them on land, they're not that impressive."

Kolyat had his own smile, remembering a ballet his family attended once upon a time. He thought it was a stupid idea—he was only six; he wanted to stay home and play games, but it was a rare opportunity to spend time with his father—when Mother persisted. And whatever Mother wanted, Father provided. The way the hanar twisted in the water was beyond anything Kolyat ever imagined. He didn't regret that night; he even wanted to learn to swim afterwards.

"Yes, they're something in the water," he agreed.

They shared a comfortable silence as each nursed their drink. Kolyat stole glances at her, discreetly as he could. The first time he saw her, she resembled every inch the soldier he knew she was. With her gun trained on him, he was afraid of her. The last time he saw her was at his father's deathbed. Her hair was longer, still pulled back, and she was in her Alliance dress blues; nothing threatening about her except the way she carried herself. Now, her hair was down and she wore a simple black dress with little make up. Like this, Kolyat could almost understand Thane's attraction to her alien allure. Yet he knew it wasn't only her beauty that drew Thane in. It was her spirit.

Kolyat sighed and drained his drink. It was almost time for him to leave if he wanted to make his meeting, but he couldn't leave without saying something. He wanted Shepard to know that he changed—it took more time than he cared to admit, but he wasn't the same renegade drell she'd first met.

"You know, Shepard, when my father first admitted to your relationship, I hated you. I hated _him._ I thought he had run out on our family to be with you. But then he explained everything—how you met, what he had been doing, what you did for him and how you woke him up. He was prepared to die and you gave him a new reason to live," Kolyat said, his voice weak. _But what about me? Wasn't I good enough for him? _He shook his head. "I can't remember the last time I saw my father smile, but when he talked about you, he never stopped. I can't hate you for restoring his soul, for making him happy. I can't hate you for finally giving us a chance to reconcile."

"It tortured him every day he was away, Kolyat," Shepard said softly. "Sometimes he said your name in his sleep. He just wanted to make peace with you before he passed."

Kolyat's vision misted. "And in the short time we had, I spent a lot of it berating him. I said so many things that I later tried to atone for, but you know how he is. My father has always been quick to forgive, to leave the past alone. Maybe he knew I never really meant any of it. I was just . . . so angry."

"He understood that. I don't know what you two talked about, but if you yelled at him the entire time we fought the Collectors, I couldn't tell. Whenever I asked about you, he said it was difficult, that he would keep trying, but he was happy. When I saw him in the hospital again, he talked about you with so much pride, he chest was practically swelling. He said he couldn't ask for a better son."

Kolyat stared into the bottom of his glass, blinking back tears. Thane had often complimented Kolyat's achievements and maturity, but to know his father boasted about it to others—Kolyat felt awful. Every horrible word he said about his father echoed loudly in his head; he could see the nights he laid in bed, eyes unfocused on the ceiling, burning with disdain about his "dead beat" father. He remembered yelling in Thane's face during their brief reunion in the C-Sec interrogation room. His father never blinked. He calmly accepted Kolyat's anger and explained what he had been doing. No reprimands, no fists—just careful, quiet words.

Shepard touched his shoulder and Kolyat jolted out of the memory. She was worried—maybe because he'd been quiet for too long. He straightened his spine, sitting up and clearing his throat.

"Did . . . did Father ever tell you that we visited Earth?"

She shook her head, surprise plain on her face.

"He sent you some messages. Guess you didn't get them."

"My communications were monitored. The Alliance thought I might contact Cerberus again. By the time I left Earth, no one cared to forward my messages."

"I'll send them to your address," Kolyat said. She deserved to have something to remember him by. She wasn't a drell; she wouldn't remember the exact timbre of his voice after a few months, she wouldn't recall the shape of his face or the color of his eyes.

"If it's alright, I'd like to hear it from you right now," she replied. "What made you decide to go?"

"A vacation is what he called it." Kolyat shook his head, smiling. "I think he just wanted to be closer to you; he mentioned infiltrating the Alliance, and I almost humored him. We went to New Mexico, to the White Sands National Monument. It was . . . there are no words. Father said it resembled the Rakhana shared in stories and we watched the sun set. We were able to take a few pictures before . . . something happened."

Kolyat closed his eyes against the memory. They had been in the desert for barely thirty minutes when Thane had an attack. Kolyat could see his father in his mind's eyes—_one hand pressed to his chest, gasping, coughing. He can't get enough oxygen. Every wheeze is a strike to my heart as I stand beside him, fretting. I don't know what to do. I am weak._

"What happened, Kolyat?" Shepard demanded.

He opened his eyes to see his hands trembling. He laced his fingers together in front of him. "He collapsed. It was one of his worst attacks I'd witnessed and I couldn't do anything, Shepard. I watched my father nearly suffocate and I had no_ idea_ what to do."

"It's not your fault. You weren't prepared and it must have been terrifying." She touched his arm briefly and he was thankful. It didn't excuse his cowardice, but she had an uncanny ability to make others feel better. He didn't question it now.

"There was a time," she continued, "when we had just returned to the Normandy from a rather difficult mission, and Thane was coughing pretty bad. I was afraid. He warned me that our time together would be short, and I was afraid that would be the end. I couldn't move, I couldn't think—I let my fear get the better of me."

"You, afraid? That doesn't seem possible. You probably jumped into action after two seconds."

"Fear can happen to anyone, Kolyat, and I'm only human. If Yeoman Chambers hadn't called for Chakwas immediately, I'm not sure what would have happened." Shepard was quiet for a moment, possibly reliving that moment or collecting her thoughts. Her voice was softer when she spoke again. "It's hard being without him now; I can't imagine facing the Collectors without him. He was my support. Not to discredit the rest of my team, but if he hadn't been there, I wouldn't be alive. I would have given up." She took another pull from her glass. Kolyat could sense her unease; she had just admitted a personal weakness, he realized. She continued, surer this time, "Like you, my time with him was short, but we made the best of it. You shouldn't beat yourself up, Kolyat. Anything you said or didn't say—it doesn't matter now. Thane missed you and loved you so much, the months he spent with you are what he treasured the most."

"And you," Kolyat argued. "He talked about you almost every minute of every day. He wished you could have seen the desert with us."

She smiled gently. "If the galaxy permits it, how about next time I have some free time, we go to a desert for Thane?"

Kolyat nodded. "I'd like that, Shepard, thanks." He glanced at his watch; he had five minutes to make it to the embassies. "I need to go, but first. . . ." He dug into his pocket and produced a small blue jewelry box, her name written on a slip of paper neatly folded and attached on top. "I found this while going through my father's things."

Shepard accepted the gift and silently read the note. When she opened the box, she gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. Kolyat hadn't pried when he first found it, but now he leaned over to see a necklace with a hand carved amethyst pendant nestled on the velvet padding.

"The symbol of Arashu, Goddess of Motherhood and Protection," he said with surprise. A memory flashed behind his eyes—his mother wore a similar necklace in her lifetime, one made of blue stone.

"It's beautiful," Shepard breathed.

_You were serious about her, Father. I never realized how much._ "It's a drell custom. These necklaces, hand carved by the pursuer, are similar to . . . human wedding rings."

Shepard's face seemed to change, softening the longer she stared at the necklace. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, her make up smearing the tiniest bit, and her voice quavered as she spoke. "I never imagined myself as a married woman."

"Technically you're not. There's a ceremony involved and—"

"Kolyat." She touched his arm. He shut up.

Shepard took the necklace from the box and put it on. It looked good on her, and he wondered what his father would think, what he would say, if he could see this. Would he push for a wedding? Would Kolyat have to call her Mom?

Shepard stood, her lips moving—talking—but he didn't hear her.

"You're not going to force me to call you Mom, right?" he blurted.

She was stunned. He felt ridiculous for asking and almost wished to take it back, but the idea terrified him. He had one mother in this world and no one could replace her, even if it was the galaxy's savior.

Shepard answered with a little embarrassed laugh, "No, not unless you want to. I'll admit I'm not much of a role model or a maternal person, and I would never try to replace Irikah, but I'm here for you. If you ever need anything, you know how to find me, but I'm just Shepard to you."

He nodded, suddenly embarrassed. "Thank you, Shepard."

"Don't mention it. Now, I think we both have somewhere to be?"

"Right. I don't want to take up any more of your time," he replied, standing. He laid enough credits on the counter for a tip and turned to say goodbye to Shepard with a hand held out in front of him.

She shook her head and opened her arms, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Do you mind? We're friends now, Kolyat. I like to offer a bit more than a handshake."

He rubbed the back of his neck and then stepped closer, awkwardly wrapping his arms around her. He was immediately shocked by the warmth of her soft skin. As he stood in her embrace, he felt protected and loved—he desperately wanted to believe in the security of it, that nothing bad had happened or would ever happen. For a moment, everything was normal.

Then he was a sleepy toddler back in his mother's arms.

_She cradles me on her lap as she sings a lullaby. The soft melody should soothe me, but Father is home and I want to spend time with him. He stands at the counter, knife in hand, preparing a meal. Chubby fingers reach for him but he doesn't see my silent plea. I cry. Mother knows—she stands beside Father and offers to cook. He sets down the knife with a smile, wiping his hands, and takes me into his arms. I'm flying for a short moment, held up only by Father's strong arms, and then he settles me against his hip. He sways to a melody I can't hear but I giggle. He's paying attention to me. He loves me. He gently touches his forehead to mine. "Shall we go dance crazy while your mother makes dinner?"_

Kolyat was brought back to the present when a hand touched his cheek; Shepard used her thumb to carefully wipe his tears, and he wasn't ashamed for crying in front of her. He hugged Shepard again, whispered sincere thanks into her hair, and left for the meeting he was now three minutes late for.

As he went, he walked with the sure knowledge that his father had been happy and made friends in the most unlikely place. He had found someone to love, someone that made him whole and righted his spirit from a dark path. _That he loves me and he's proud of me_. Kolyat held his head high. He was sure—wherever Thane's spirit was now, whether on the shore or in the void—that his parents were beaming down on him with love.


End file.
